The evening sun was melting behind the horizon when Maks, Lena and David reached the edge of town. There, just beyond the old railway tracks, loomed an abandoned circus that continually fascinated everyone in the area. The tents, once full of colour and laughter, now looked like huge, tattered sails, and remnants of dilapidated decorations could be seen among the tall grass and weeds. Maks took out his torch, pressing the button with his hand, although the remnants of the day were still smouldering. Lena, with her rucksack on her shoulders, looked on with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. David looked at his friends through glasses with cracked glass, unable to hide his trembling hand. - Are you sure you want to do this? - he whispered. - After all, you wanted an adventure, didn't you? - replied Lena, holding up a map printed from the internet. - Anyway, everyone says the circus is really alive at night.... They entered through a torn sheet into the main tent. Inside, the smell of dust was mixed with something sweet and disturbing, as if someone had recently spilled popcorn. Under the rusting dome were benches, and in the middle of the arena a rusty knife-throwing wheel glinted. Suddenly, a crackling sound came from the distance, followed by barely audible laughter. Maks froze, Lena squeezed David's shoulder even tighter. Some kind of shadow flitted between the rows of seats - it was too big for a cat, too fast for a dog. - 'It's just the wind,' David tried to reassure himself, although he was rather trying to convince himself. The friends moved cautiously deeper into the tent, and the further they walked, the more strange footprints they noticed - footprints, remnants of confetti, faded posters depicting characters from a circus troupe. At this point, Lena suddenly stopped. Her gaze was caught by an object hanging high on a rope: something shiny, looking like an old medallion. When she raised her torch, the light reflected off the surface, casting streaks across the ceiling. But it wasn't the medallion that was most important. Below it, in the arena, stood a figure. In the darkness, they could clearly see its silhouette begin to move. Was it one of the old performers? The ghost of the circus? Or perhaps someone even more unexpected? The friends held their breath as they watched the figure raise its head and slowly turn towards them....